IN LOVING COLOR

Good Friday, the start of a beautiful holiday weekend full of family, fun, candy and eggs! It’s a time to enjoy life and celebrate our families – not to mention overeat and overheat.  It’s one of the few times a year that you and your ex should be able to put your differences aside and appreciate your kids – even if in the past you and your ex have tried to hire the same hit man.  Yes, that’s right, today’s lesson (ok, ok, ‘sermon’) is on peace and sharing.  Even the Middle East has had successful peace treaties from time to time so why not you? Fine… it goes for me too!

Have you ever really watched kids at an easter egg hunt? Ever notice that sometimes even when a somewhat older child finds an egg first, if they notice a younger child also eyeing it, they’ll make a non-display about putting it in that little one’s basket? Why can’t we do that? Why do we always have to adhere to the “All eggs in one basket – MINE” philosophy? 

Think about it.  Let’s say you’re at Wal-Mart (I’ll be there shortly) and it’s the usual pre-Easter egg madness.  You’re just reaching for that last box of discount Easter egg dye when you notice a young mother with a couple of youngsters in tow and one ‘en route’, about to reach for it. Your pennies are tight but obviously hers are bolted down.  What would you do? Would you extend that box or keep it? I’d like to think we’d all tap that young mother on the shoulder, hand it over and say “I’m sorry, I thought it was something else”.  I don’t know about you but the feeling of happiness I’d feel passing that box of dye off knowing the color it would bring to more than just a carton of eggs would far outweigh the pinch of paying a little more for the more expensive box.

Look at it like this: Doesn’t everyone deserve a little bright color in their life? That’s what I thought.  

 

DID YOU SEE THAT?

You remember the experiment where several people in a crowd were witness to an event and then later asked to recount what happened and the perpetrator’s description? Each person seemed to have a different version of the same thing. How about we pull that same experiment at, say, a rodeo? It’s funny what men notice and remember as opposed to women… well, kinda.

Here’s the scenario: you and your sweetie are watching the rodeo when a beautiful barrel racer with more curves than a grand prix racer comes flying into the arena on a speeding horse. You’re both taken aback by the sight; transfixed as the pair seems to perform as one, turn after perfect turn. As they go whizzing by, barreling into the exit alley you exclaim to your partner “Wow, what a pair!” To which he responds “You saw ’em too?” You barely notice he’s zoned in on the back alley waiting on the next pair, his eyes glazed over like when you’re giving him laundry instructions.

Now, fast forward to the dance later that night when you’re with friends giving your personal professional review (yes, we all have those) of the rodeo. As you’re telling your girlfriends about how the pair came bounding into the arena, your other half is telling HIS friends about the big, beautiful pair bouncing into the arena! “OMG! I didn’t mean THAT pair you idiot!!!” You wanna slap him so hard he won’t be able to shave for a week.

But be careful. We could turn that around to be fair. This time it’s the bulldogging – which to you non-rodeo readers is where a big hunka cowboy bails off a perfectly good horse (kinda like skydivers leaving a perfectly good airplane in my opinion), to wrestle a steer to the ground. You both watch the cowboy and his mount shoot out of the box into the arena with such force it’s like they’re shot out of a cannon. You can’t help but notice those big broad shoulders, those long powerful legs… then when he gets up out of the dirt from the steer oh my goodness what a pair of Wranglers. NOW whose eyes are glazing over? Your sweetie announces “Wow, did you see that?” And very under your breath you whisper “Not yet but I can always dream!”

See what I mean?

A BUM STEER

When you exit the donkey corral, please remember to shut the gate behind you so none of them end up with the rest of the herd… Thank you.  As I’ve told you before, I’m here to try to impart some of my hard-learned lessons in the affairs of the heart and have I got a doozy for you today.

 For some time now I’ve been in a relationship that until recently I would have described as perfect for me… he and I share a love of horses, our kids and a country way of life. So far so good right? Yeah, well, that’s what I thought too – until I realized he suffered from what I call the ‘pouting and punishing phenomenon’… no, that’s not some S&M game but thanks for that image! No, this is where your partner gets upset with you and rather than voicing their dismay they take it out on you with things like pouting, withholding the sweet things they normally say, or forgetting to call or text when normally they’d be on the phone quicker than Secretariat hitting the race track. Well, I’ve never been fond of that game (for me it’s like running a barrel race without a timer – you’re in it to win it but no one really does.)

 Guys, let me give you a little advice here: if you want to remain a stallion in your filly’s barn remember this – if she’s making a 110 mile round trip multiple times a week just to see you then REMEMBER SHE’S MAKING A 110 MILE ROUND TRIP MULTIPLE TIMES A WEEK JUST TO SEE YOU. We understand your love for roping or whatever other hobby you have, believe me, we really do. But if you expect to keep playing saddle blanket bingo with that little filly you should occasionally take a night off from chasing steers and chase your filly around the barn instead! 

My fellow mares and fillies this one is for you: If you’re making a 110 mile round trip multiple times a week to see your stud muffin pay close attention to his actions and what is NOT being said. If instead of paying attention to you, your needs and your efforts he’s paying for saddles, ropes and things like that then you need to take the blinkers off to see if you’re as important to him as he is to you. If the answer to that isn’t an obvious YES then he may be the roper but, honey, you’re the one with the ‘bum steer’.

BOTTLE BABIES

So, how many of YOU have been in the sale barn and the maternity ward in the same morning? See, today is not JUST another Friday; today is my baby girl’s 17^th BIRTHDAY!! It seems like just yesterday I was dashing from the sale barn to the hospital! What was that? No, that’s not how I explained the birds and the bees to my kids… That’s what actually happened the day I had my youngest child.

You see, as I’ve continued to tell you, things are a bit different out here in the country. Whereas some of my friends have done things like gone and had their nails and hair done just prior to going to give birth, well, let’s just say I had a few chores to take care of first.

Here’s what happened: It was a wonderful almost spring Friday morning and I was about 8 1/2 months pregnant. My then husband and a friend had been in the throws of a little – and I do mean little – business venture involving calves known as ‘bottle babies’. It’s a common practice where you buy dairy calves that are newly born and raise them yourself on a bottle until they get to a point where you can sell them on the gain. (Bet you didn’t know you were gonna get an agri-economics lesson with this did you?)

Anyway, due to an illness that spread through the little herd we decided to sell the remaining calves. And of course once again ‘timing is everything’. The morning of March 15, my husband hooked up the stock trailer, loaded the calves (so considerate) and went to work (but not before asking me to please haul them to the local sale barn) – the brownie point he kept was for the ‘please’… But, all in a country girl’s day around here… So, I did.

Now, while I was there, I noticed that I was a bit uncomfortable, no contractions or anything but given that this was to be my 4^th child, I knew what ‘uncomfortable meant – that I needed to get from the barn door to the hospital door. So, I called the brand inspector over to my truck. You should’ve seen the look on HIS face when I told him I wasn’t ‘feeling well’. I tell you, other than when a new blond walks in the local bar I’ve never seen cowboys move that fast! He had me unloaded and outta there quicker than Martha Stewart at a McDonalds!

What did I do? Oh, you know, the usual – I went home, unhooked my trailer, called my husband and drove myself to the hospital. Pretty much what any other country expectant mother would do. I think my own mother said it best though. When she arrived at the hospital she exclaimed “Only you. Only you would deliver calves AND a baby in the same morning!” Ummm… Could someone please tell me what’s so different about that?

So, today’s story tells us this: Bottle babies come in every shape, specie, form, and size but love is always the same… 

THE PERFECT SHADE

Happy “almost Friday” and ‘nearly almost St. Patrick’s Day weekend’! I realize it’s been a while since we last visited but unfortunately my real life has decided it needed my utmost attention… Why are you laughing as hard as the time I told you I actually have friends? Oh, yeah, right, real life and me. Gotcha. Anyway, being that this is a time most epitomized by a color (green in this case), I thought it befitting that I write about shades (no, not Foster Grant, Oakley or ‘those shades’). No, this is about a different type of ‘shade’. 

 What’s on my mind is this: perception of perfection. From the time we’re little girls we have starry eyed ideas of perfection like a fairy godmother that will give us magnificent hoop-skirt ball gowns to make us beautiful and a handsome ‘knight on a white horse’ that will sweep us up and carry us away to our new home on a cul-de-sac in the very upscale and trendy “Happily Ever After” neighborhood.  Reality check: if you’re waiting on a fairy godmother to bring you a ball gown you’re more likely to get a free dress from Vera Wang and, as for the knight on a white horse, well that’s a horse of a different color altogether (not to mention the topic of today).

 To me, perfection, not unlike beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. As we grow older, it sometimes seems like the glasses through which we see the world become more rose colored by the decade. So, like the televisions of old, at times we have to adjust the color. What? Yes, there were televisions where you actually had to do that – they were before HD and after the telegraph.

 Let’s take the ‘knight on the white horse’ idea now. Finding that perfect guy is many a young girl’s dream but with age and dating we soon learn that catching ‘Mr. Perfect’ is about as easy as jumping on a stagecoach in that hoop-skirt ball gown (it can be done but with skill, patience and most importantly imagination.) Believe me, I’ve spent a LOT of time myself looking for perfection only to discover that while looking for my handsome stud I had accidentally wandered into several donkey corrals.

 What did I learn? You mean besides sometimes you really have to step in it to get to the next pasture? I found that at the least expected time you could find the most anticipated moment of your life. Also this: he doesn’t have to be riding a white horse to stand out. (Mine was actually riding a bay horse and he wasn’t a knight but a cowboy instead.) I also learned that limiting yourself to looking for a knight can only darken those rose colored glasses to the point that even if he galloped up and offered you a ride, you could miss the saddle completely.

 Moral of the story: Sometimes what we perceive as perfection has a different shading but it doesn’t mean what we’re seeing is any less perfect!